After a Fashion (6 page)

Matters began to make sense a few months later when they were in Chicago and Harriet woke up in their rented rooms to the sound of Jane arguing with an unknown gentleman. That gentleman was yelling about confidence schemes and how he would see Aunt Jane behind bars. Harriet then heard a loud thud, and her aunt appeared moments later. After tossing Harriet’s belongings into a carpet bag, Jane had cautioned her not to look at the motionless man lying on the floor before she hustled her out of Chicago. Aunt Jane then told her they needed a place to lay low for a while, that place turning out to be the circus.

Harriet had adored the circus—loved learning the art of tumbling, and loved the people who worked there. Her aunt encouraged her to participate in the shows, riding ponies and waving to the crowds while Aunt Jane took tickets and cozied up to the owner. Harriet had just begun instruction on how to walk across a wire when she was pulled from a sound sleep, dragged to the nearest train station, and informed by Jane, who possessed a reticule stuffed with bills, that they needed to go to a large city this time, one where they could lose themselves amongst the masses.

That city turned out to be New York City. They’d rented a
small house in a working-class neighborhood. Harriet had actually been provided with a governess, whose sole job seemed to be reviewing everything Harriet knew and filling in areas she deemed Harriet to be deficient in.

Her aunt was rarely at home, which was fine with Harriet, since their relationship had deteriorated even further. That relationship became downright horrific, though, when Harriet turned sixteen.

Aunt Jane arrived unexpectedly on Harriet’s birthday, bearing gifts and a cake, which Harriet found peculiar but somewhat promising. All sense of promise disappeared in a flash after the cake had been consumed. Aunt Jane proceeded to explain exactly what was expected of Harriet from that point forward. Her explanation finally shed much-needed light on the reason she’d bothered to secure Harriet a complete education.

It turned out that Jane made a lucrative living through dishonest means. She traveled often, insinuating herself into wealthy circles, for the purpose of swindling people. Not bothering to address Harriet’s sputters of disbelief, Jane then informed Harriet that it was past time she joined the “family business” and earned her keep. Jane wanted Harriet to use the education she’d acquired and her somewhat polished manners to hoodwink wealthy targets, convincing them she was an orphaned young lady, though of means, needing assistance as she tried to navigate the daunting world of society.

When Harriet learned Jane expected her to steal a priceless painting from one of the mansions on Park Avenue, she balked, causing Jane to fly into a rage, screaming horrible things about Harriet’s mother before resorting to throwing anything at hand in the direction of Harriet.

Fearing for her life, Harriet barricaded herself in her room, quickly packed her belongings, and took off out the window, determined to never return.

She’d almost starved to death over the weeks she spent on the streets, until one night, out of sheer desperation, she’d stumbled into a ramshackle old church.

Stepping into a room lined with pews, she’d been greeted by an older gentleman who introduced himself as Reverend Thomas Gilmore. He’d taken hold of her arm, ushered her into his office, helped her into a wobbly chair, and poured her a bracing cup of strong tea.

He’d listened with barely a word spoken as she’d poured out the story of her life. When she finally finished her sad tale, Reverend Gilmore took hold of her hand, told her he was going to help her, and then began to speak about God.

God became a daily part of her life after that, and Reverend Gilmore became a dear friend. He helped her secure reputable employment, along with new lodging that eventually came with new friends, Miss Millie Longfellow and Miss Lucetta Plum.

Rain whipping into her eyes pulled Harriet abruptly from her memories. Blinking to clear her vision, she frowned at a mansion that in no way looked familiar. Realizing she had been walking in the wrong direction down Fifth Avenue, she turned and began splashing her way back the way she’d just come. Her splashing slowed when a large, and unfortunately familiar, figure materialized out of the rain.

“Ah, Miss Peabody,” Mr. Addleshaw exclaimed with a charming smile as he stopped in front of her, blocking her way. “Had a change of heart, have you?”

Her first impulse was to dash in the opposite direction, but it was raining harder than ever, and she didn’t want to waste time wandering around Fifth Avenue in an attempt to avoid Mr. Addleshaw. Lifting her chin, she sidestepped the gentleman, sending him a nod before she passed him and continued forward. To her annoyance, the man caught up with her
all too quickly—although, to her satisfaction, his smile had dimmed.

“What you need is a nice fire to warm you up and dry you out,” Mr. Addleshaw said as he matched her step for step.

“I’m not going back to your house, Mr. Addleshaw.”

What little remained of his smile disappeared. “Why’d you turn around, then?”

“I was heading in the wrong direction.”

“You really
don’t
want to hear about my business proposal?”

“Unusual as this must seem to you, no, I don’t.”

“I assure you, it would be worth your time to hear me out.”

Stopping in the midst of a deep puddle that sent water dribbling down her high-buttoned shoes, Harriet pushed the bird dangling in front of her eye aside. “You’re very tenacious.”

“It’s what makes me a successful businessman.”

“But I, after being the recipient of your inexcusable insult, have no desire to be a part of that business, successful or not.”

“I have no idea what I said that insulted you so greatly.”

“And that is exactly why I’m now going to bid you good day one last time.” Picking up her drenched skirt, Harriet tried to continue forward but found her progress thwarted when Buford appeared out of nowhere and immediately took hold of her hem with his overly large teeth.

“Buford thinks you should hear me out as well.”

“And I think you should call off your dog and allow me to be on my way,” she countered.

“I’m certain you must realize by now that Buford rarely listens to me.”

“Which begs the question why someone of your temperament would suffer his company.”

“I do believe there’s an insult in there somewhere, directed at me.”

“Besides being tenacious, I see you’re astute as well.”

“And that quick wit is exactly why I believe you’ll be perfect for what I have in mind.”

Harriet crossed her arms over her chest. “Fine, since it appears I’m stuck here, due to the massive jaws of your beast, tell me, Mr. Addleshaw, what exactly do you have in mind? I’ll give you sixty seconds to explain.”

“Don’t you think it would be more comfortable to discuss this in my nice, warm office?”

“You don’t have an office at the moment. Miss Birmingham turned it into a dressing room, and you’re down to forty seconds.”

A vein began to throb on Mr. Addleshaw’s forehead. “Very well, since you’re obviously intent on being unreasonable, I’ll explain while the two of us get completely drenched.”

“You’re obviously confusing me with Miss Birmingham.
I’m
never unreasonable.”

“In all fairness, Miss Peabody, I do hope that little statement didn’t take further seconds off my allotted time.”

Seeing absolutely no point in arguing further with the man, Harriet tried her hand at releasing a sniff, just like Mrs. Birmingham had done numerous times during their ridiculous exchange. To her acute embarrassment, though, it turned out that sniffing was not actually advisable when it was pouring down rain, because water tended to immediately be sucked up one’s nose. She sneezed, snorted, sneezed again, and finally managed a halfhearted wave in his direction. “Continue, if you please.”

Mr. Addleshaw reached into the pocket of his ill-fitted jacket and retrieved a handkerchief, although it seemed to be a struggle for him to get it out of his pocket. He shook it out and handed it to her.

“Thank you,” she mumbled as she sniffled into the handkerchief.

“You’re welcome.” He studied her for a moment. “Shall I continue?”

“I’m waiting with bated breath to hear what you’ll say next.”

“Ah, sarcasm, how refreshing,” he said pleasantly. “But allow me to return to my proposition. I regrettably have to admit that, because of Miss Birmingham’s behavior, I currently find myself in a bit of a quandary.”

“That must be an unusual circumstance for
someone like you
.”

“I do believe I’m about to find that sarcasm of yours more annoying than refreshing, but . . . Oh! I think I understand now how I insulted you. Really, Miss Peabody, I wasn’t trying to throw aspersions on your status in—”

“Your time’s almost up.”

He sent her a glare. “If you don’t want to hear the rest of my apology, that’s fine with me, however I did not—”

“You don’t apologize often, do you?” she interrupted when it appeared Mr. Addleshaw was getting ready to launch into a full-scale tirade that would undoubtedly insult her further.

His jaw turned rigid. “You’re beginning to try my patience, but getting back to the business at hand . . . I need a lady.”

“A . . . lady?”

“Indeed, and I’ve decided you’ll do nicely.”

Harriet frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“It’s simple. Gentlemen of business are expected to abide by certain unspoken rules. One of those rules has to do with having a lovely lady by our side while we entertain our associates. Since Miss Birmingham has proven herself unfit for that position, I’m in need of a replacement, a lovely bit of femininity, if you will, to hang on my arm
and
my every word as I go about the tricky business of negotiating a deal with a duke. I’ve come to the conclusion you would fit that role admirably.”

For a moment, words were impossible to produce, but only
for a moment. “Am I to understand you believe
I’m
a ‘lovely bit of femininity’?”

Mr. Addleshaw had the audacity to grin. “Well, not at the moment. You’re more of a sodden mess than a lovely bit of anything. But I imagine with the proper clothing and a fashionable hairstyle, you’d be a charming asset, one the Duke of Westmoore would appreciate.”

Harriet yanked on her skirt, effectively pulling it away from Buford, who’d been gnawing at the hem, before she bobbed a curtsy in Mr. Addleshaw’s direction. “You’re delusional, and no, I won’t be accepting your offer.” With that, she spun around and walked as quickly as she could through the stream that had once been the sidewalk.

“I’ll give you five hundred dollars.”

Pride warred with practicality as Harriet’s steps faltered. Practicality won and had her turning. “Five hundred dollars?”

“Indeed, which, for someone . . .”

“If you finish that sentence, I assure you, Mr. Addleshaw, our conversation will be at an immediate end.”

Mr. Addleshaw frowned. “You’re very touchy, aren’t you.”

“And you’re very insulting and condescending.”

Waving her words away with a flick of his wrist, a motion that almost caused one of his jacket seams to come completely apart, Mr. Addleshaw stalked closer to her. “So will you do it?”

Harriet considered him for a moment. He seemed so sure of himself, so very arrogant in his belief that she’d accept his offer that, instead of nodding—something she knew she should be doing—she shook her head instead. “No.”

“What do you mean—no?”

“I thought my answer was self-explanatory.”

“You’re being ridiculous. You’re a hat girl, one who is soon to be without a position. I can’t imagine opportunities like this come your way often.”

Her hands clenched into fists. “Miss Birmingham was right. You, sir, are a complete and utter boor, and . . .” Her words trailed off when she noticed an elderly gentleman dressed in black hobbling toward them through the rain, clutching a large umbrella in his hand. He stopped a few feet away from her, bent over as he drew in a few gasping breaths, straightened, wheezed a few times, and then opened his mouth. “I say, I could not believe . . .” He stopped speaking as another wheeze racked his aging body.

The irritation that had been pouring through Harriet ever since she’d made the acquaintance of Mr. Addleshaw evaporated into thin air. Here was clear proof there were still good people in the world. The elderly gentleman had obviously witnessed her quarreling with Mr. Addleshaw and was coming to her aid. Moving closer to the man, her lips curved into a smile, until she caught his eye and found herself pinned under the man’s beady glare. He released a sniff, one that, annoying enough, didn’t cause him to erupt into sneezing, and then edged closer to Mr. Addleshaw, placing the umbrella directly over that insufferable man’s head.

“Shall I summon the authorities, sir?”

Harriet’s temper roared back to life. “There is absolutely no reason to summon any authorities,” she snapped before Mr. Addleshaw could respond. “I’ve done nothing wrong, whereas Mr. Addleshaw . . . Well, I hardly believe now is the appropriate time to discuss all of his transgressions, since it does seem to be raining harder than ever.”

The elderly gentleman somehow managed to look down his nose at her, even though they were of a similar height. “From what I just witnessed, you were about to assault Mr. Addleshaw.”

“Just because I was thinking about it, doesn’t mean I was planning on seeing it through to fruition.”

“A lady should never contemplate slapping a gentleman, especially not one of Mr. Addleshaw’s social standing.”

“I wasn’t thinking about
slapping
him,” Harriet muttered. “He deserved much more than a simple slap for being under the misguided belief that, simply because he has deep pockets, everyone should cater to his ridiculous whims.”

The elderly gentleman’s expression turned confused. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.” He looked to Mr. Addleshaw. “What is she talking about?”

“Miss Peabody has evidently taken issue with the idea I’d like to hire her to stand in as my lady of choice as I negotiate my business deal with the duke.”